Take Me as I Am
by Jade R. Rayne
Summary: [Bethyl] There's no telling what'll happen between a redneck and a young woman in efforts to survive. [Chp6-"I'm sorry Beth. I know there ain't anything I can say or do to make this shitty situation better for you. But I'm here… don't hide from me, Beth. Don't act strong when you feel like you're all torn up inside. Let it out… I'm right here. I ain't going anywhere."] Rated M.
1. Prologue

**_A/N: Entire contents of this chapter have been REVISED!_**

**Fair warning: **Updates will be spontaneous (Nursing School), but since I'm such a dork and a crazyshipper for Bethyl, I might put this story on my critical list!

**Setting:** This chapter is set in the future, a year after 4:13. _Chapter Two_ will pick up right where Daryl and Beth left off.

**AGES:** Beth (Chapter 1- 20 years. Chapter 2- 19 until the story returns to this point).  
Daryl (Chapter 1- 38 years. Chapter 2- 37 until the story returns to this point).  
_(^ there's some debate on Daryl's actual age. A few friends say he's 45, some say late 30's. I'll go with late 30's for my story)_

**Ratings:** M for now for language. Maybe MA for some sensual content later on.

**Take Me As I Am  
**_Chapter 1  
[Prologue]_

The setting sun bathed the once blue sky with burning yellow and orange embers, taking its warmth and protection with it as it began to vanish over the horizon. Darkness began to envelope the sky, bringing about uncertainty and fear. In the distance, supernatural howls began to howl into the increasing darkness. It's not safe anywhere—any safe haven would've been infiltrated by now. What was once safe was not anymore. No one… and nothing was safe.

Except for their expanding group and their fortress.

It was a miracle, to say the least. They had reunited only recently, and slowly broadening their numbers by rescuing survivors and setting them to work. They had to.

Something changed—walkers changed. Many were still the typical slow, decaying living corpse… and some… some of them evolved—mutated. At first no one knew what it meant when the earth shook and trembled. It was a small scale nuclear explosion of a nuclear power plant in New York that a few groups of survivors try to start again. At least, that's what they were told.

Despite the impending doom of the zombie apocalypse, there were many survivor groups out there. _Were, was, and used to be… past tense— _not anymore. A couple of months after the explosion, these survivor groups that had survived hordes after hordes were dying out. Hunted, would be the most correct term. Surely, the walkers had an affinity of detecting scents of blood and are attracted to noise, but there was something that walked amongst them.

Survivors, now in fortified prison group, of these deceased groups claimed that the large hordes that attacked—_hunted_ them had a leader howling commands. They said that the walkers would circle them, blocking any potential escape routes and they would stand there… waiting. Until, a snarl is sounded, then the walkers swarmed in. These survivors had no idea how they escaped and lived to tell the tale, but they were grateful to be alive.

They all are.

Beth expressed a solemn sigh, her eyes glued to the fortified metal gates of their prison—_home._ It had been over six weeks since she last saw Daryl. Daryl, her friend, savior… and lover. A part of her wished she wasn't so stubborn. Wasn't it her stubbornness that drove him away? A soft scoff escaped her lips—she's a Greene girl. Stubbornness is a trait her side of the family carries. Then again, Daryl did say Dixons were stubborn as well.

She laughed silently to herself—the situation itself was bittersweet in all honesty. She straightened her back and slung the strap of her M16 assault rifle across her shoulder. For a long moment, she continued to stare at and beyond the fortress wall's gate. Her mind wandered back to the point where she basically forced him to leave.

No, she didn't outright tell him to go… he left willingly. Tears began to gather and blur her vision as she relived the event in her head…

* * *

_"Daryl, I need to talk to you. Just for a minute," Beth smiled lovingly at her lover, her hero. She knew he would be overjoyed at the news… after all, he wasn't getting any younger and neither was she. At this point in her life, and in their current situation, Beth believed that this was a gift from God. _He _was telling her to keep living with courage and conquer her fears. _He_ was telling her that what happened between her and Daryl was right and not a mistake. _

_ Daryl nodded curtly, his face seemingly a little grim and annoyed. After placing his polished arrows and crossbow aside, he left the group of males he was speaking to before following Beth to a corner of the fortified gates. "What is it?"_

_ Puzzled, Beth furrowed her eyebrows at his sharp tone. "Are you okay? Is something bothering you?" His odd behavior effectively made Beth rethink her decision to tell him the news. _

_ "Yeah, 'ts nothing. What did you want to tell me?" His voice gruff and unyielding._

_ "Oh… uhm… well I—," she began._

_ "Wait, actually, yeah I do have something that's bothering the hell outta me," he let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his long hair. He paused to take in Beth's patient and expecting gaze. "There ain't no easy way to say this…"_

_ "I'm sure whatever it is Daryl, we can solve it together," Beth began to take a step closer to him to wrap her arms around his waist—until he pulled back by taking a step back himself._

_ "You and I, Beth… we just can't be. It can't go on no more."_

_Beth stood there, stunned. "What are you trying to say, Daryl Dixon?" her southern drawl always dominated her speech when she was upset or angry. _

_ "You and I— I don't want to hurt you more than I already have… we can't be together… It just ain't right," he looked straight into her eyes, with no emotion in his eyes._

_ Her lower lip trembled; salty tears began to cascade down her cheeks. "What brought this on?" she asked, not quite understanding the situation. "We were fine yesterday. What made you change your mind all of a sudden?!"_

_ "I've been feeling like this for a while Beth. For Christ's sake I'm old enough to be your daddy. I don't deserve someone so angelic like you. It… it ain't happening. I'm going to stop it right here, right now," he crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking at her down the tip of his nose, daring her to defy him._

_ Something in Beth snapped. Her gentle, docile nature disappeared as she yelled at him, not caring who or what heard them. "So is this it, Daryl Dixon? Was I just some sweet young fuck to you?" She lurched forward, putting her hands on his shoulder and shoved him backwards, hard. "Did it mean nothing to you? Are you embarrassed that you had to settle with me, a girl nearly half your age?! Do I mean nothing to you?!" _

_ "Damnit Beth, quit putting words in my mouth! I couldn't get more than a couple sentences in and you done and gone run your mouth!" Daryl yelled back, his face began to redden in anger. "You have your damn whole life in front of you, and I'm just some fucking perverted ol' man. I don't want to be the asshole who robs you of your fucking future!" He pointed at the main prison building with a tense posture, "that is where your future is, with them young folks inside. Not me."_

_"You're deciding for me, Daryl! I don't want them, I want to be with you damnit! Why can't you just trust my decision to stay with you? If it's my future you're so worried about, you don't gotta. Because it's mine, and I want to spend it with you!" she hissed her words angrily, upset that Daryl had once again, and made decision of her future for her. _

_ "You ain't gotta choice, Beth. I'm telling right now, that this thing between you and me is over," he casted her a last glance before taking one small step back. Then another… and another after that until his back was facing her. _

_ "I hate you, Daryl Dixon. I don't want to ever see your face around here again," Beth whispered, heartbroken. She turned on her heels and hightailed into the main building, brushing by glances from curious bystanders. _

_Little did she know, once she disappeared into the building, Daryl's shoulders slumped—as if defeated. He turned around slowly, his eyes trained on the door she disappeared through. His eyes glazed over with unshed tears, his face tight and grim. With a soft whisper, he turned and headed to grab his weapons._

_"Goodbye, Beth…"_

* * *

The next morning of their argument, she avoided everyone like the plague, not eating nor drinking. Maggie Greene walked in with a plate of eggs and a small glass of goat milk, in efforts to tempt and bribe her sister to come out. They were lucky in running across a goat farm with non-diseased livestock and packets and packets of crop seeds.

It was then when Maggie told her Daryl and a few others had left to find more survivors. At first, Beth didn't bother to care—at least she tried to not care. But every moment she was not buried with tasks, she would think of him. Of how he protected her, how he smiled at her… how he loved her. She knew it well, but her anger was fresh.

It wasn't until after the third day, she began worrying about him. By the fourth day he was still missing, she got down on her knees and prayed for his and the group's safe return. By the second week since his absence, she grew restless and had tried to leave to find him on her own. Rick and Maggie said it would be suicide, but Beth didn't care.

Against her better judgment, she escaped into the night when no one was paying attention to her. She handled the straggler walkers just fine, but by morning, she ran into a small mob of walkers. If it weren't for Rick, Michonne, and Glen for tracking her down… she would've been the walkers' breakfast.

By the third week, she laid in bed for days—neither wanting to eat or drink. The army nurse, Raeanne, with the agreement of the group, started an IV to keep her hydrated and alive. It was then when the nurse noticed her critical, unique condition.

Of course, Maggie wasn't happy at all. In fact, everyone was quite shocked… but there was nothing she could do about it. Her sister and Ryan kept visiting her, encouraging her until by the fourth week, she decided to move on with her life.

And here she was now.

A part of her admired Daryl's concern of her future if he had let them be together. Yet, the other part of her hated herself for admiring his stubbornness. But isn't that what love is? To love a person is to love all their flaws and strengths, their weaknesses and courage.

She was torn. She had to move on with her life. If he was alive, he would've returned by now. But deep within her heart, she kept a spark—a hope that he's out there… surviving as Daryl he does best.

Beth sighed and shook her head in attempt to clear her thoughts of Daryl. Even after six weeks, she knew she stilled loved him.

"Do you want me to take over, Beth? You need some rest, honey. You've been taking sentry duty for days now," Maggie placed a soft hand on her little sister's shoulder, her brows creased with worry.

Beth looked up to find her sister smiling softly down at her. She didn't even hear her open the door. "No… I'm okay Maggie. You though," she nodded at her sister's protruding stomach. "You need more rest than I do at this point."

Maggie grinned sheepishly and shrugged, "I feel useless around here. No one's letting me do anything 'round here. It's like they see me as an invalid!"

"Well, Maggie… you are 'bout to burst!" Beth laughed and reached over to give her sister's hand a squeeze of affection. "Brother-in-law's worried sick about you. That's why he insisted to run for supplies for the delivery even when we're well equipped now."

"He's a good man," Maggie nodded. A blanket of comfortable silence fell between them. The sun had nearly set over the horizon; the darkness of night crept closer and darker. "Did you tell him?" Maggie broke the silence between them with a serious tone, "before… you know?"

Beth shook her head, her blond tresses tousled softly with the action. "Couldn't… no, _didn't_," she amended. "It wouldn't have changed anyway maybe."

"Well… you never—," the older Greene sister was interrupted by frantic shouts at their fortress's gate.

Beyond the gate was a military jeep, and beyond the jeep was a large horde of the undead closing in on them. Amidst the chaos, Beth swore she heard his voice.

/

**JR** – REVISED. I hope this is a much, much better chapter. **Remember, next chapter will start from where Beth is assumed to be kidnapped by someone and Daryl meets the group of bikers. **

Please leave some feedback!


	2. Into the Darkness

**Take Me as I Am**  
_Chapter 2 [Into the Darkness]_

A gentle breeze picked up in the small clearing at the intersection of the road and the train tracks as he sat there on the dirt, numb. He wanted to keep going—he didn't want to stop until he knew she was safe and by his side. He'd be a damn liar if he said he didn't miss her already. He usually wasn't a person for feels or any other emotion other than stoicism, sarcasm or anger.

At least, not until the world had gone to hell. People assumed that people like him, rugged and rough would love the chaos, anarchy and destruction penetrating the world now. No, not him. How many times in the past year did he wish the world hadn't gone to hell? Well, about too damn many times.

Contrary to his rough exterior, and tough life—he valued life. He's a survivalist—it's what he does best after escaping the angry throes of his abusive father. Dare he say it; he even misses the rough housing he and Merle used to get into. It often ended him being bruised and sore for the next several days, but it was the way these two brothers' bonded. And now, he's gone. Zombified and dead.

He'd be damned if he'll let Beth die too.

"Well, look'et here," Daryl could hear the smirk in the stranger's voice. Distant footsteps drew closer, surrounding him in a circle, trying to trap him. They drew closer, and the leader, Daryl presumed stepped in front of him. Not bothering to spare another second, Daryl shot up from the ground and launched a punch into the man's face—effectively knocking him to the ground. He gripped his trusted crossbow at hand, and aimed at the fallen fellow.

"Damnit, hold up!" the man shouted from the ground, sounding a bit winded.

"I'm claiming the vest," one of the other fellows behind him with the black compound bow sneered. "I like'em wings."

The older man on the ground leered at Daryl, wiping the blood dripping from his nose, "Hold up." Noticing the large amount of blood on his finger, he laughed in what Daryl assumed was being pleasantly surprised.

"A bowman?" the fellow let out a strangled sigh. "See, I respect that. A man with a rifle could'a been some photographer… soccer coach back in the day but… a bowman is a bowman through and through." He took a step closer to Daryl, despite the crossbow aiming straight at his head.

Daryl kept silent, studying this stranger and his posse. He was outnumbered, but if it's a fight they want he'll fight to the death before giving up. And he's damn sure he'll take out at least half of this group before he goes down under.

"What you got there, an hundred-fifty pound draw weight? I'll be darned if that thing don't fire at least three hundred feet per second. I've been looking for a weapon like that," he continued with an arrogant smile on his face. "'course ah, one with a bit more ammo."

The bowman behind him snickered, and leered in his southern drawl, "You got yourself some trouble there, partner?"

"You pull that trigger, these boys will drop you several times over," the man with the pepper grey and white hair continued, confidence unwavering. "That what'chu want? Come on fella, suicide is stupid." A sadistic grin grew on his face, a sinful look. "Why hurt yourself, when you can hurt other people?"

Daryl didn't answer him—he was contemplating. The odds are, this fellow here was right. He wouldn't come out of this fight alive if he resisted. And they weren't going to take no for an answer. He met people like them… in fact; he was a lot like them before the shit hit the fan.

"Name's Joe," he supplied, knowing that Daryl will not resist.

Daryl slowly lowered his crossbow and exchanged his name in return, "Daryl." If he was going to survive and rescue Beth, he has to be accepted into this group first. "Where are you guys heading?"

Joe grinned, "Well son, there's a story to that. You see these tracks here?" he pointed along the railroad tracks leading to what seems like a never ending track. "We found these tracks and some map saying there's a safe place down yonder. We figured we would go give it a try after we left the house we were just in."

"A house? Was it safe?" That peaked his interest, if there was a house nearby; there was a good chance Beth was there. Wherever she is, he'll find her. He'll find her.

"Nawh, some fucker killed one'o our own back there and he turned to a fucking walker. Nearly bit my fucking head off," the one with the compound bow snarled, spitting at the ground in disgust.

"Ain't nobody there?"

"No, all that ruckus dumbass here made," Joe nodded at the bowman behind Daryl, "attracted more walkers. We hightailed outta there before it was too late. Now come on we're burning daylight. Make no sense waiting around for walkers to catch up to us or somethin'." He turned from the group and headed down the tracks, not caring who followed. Sure enough, all five men followed without another word, except the bowman, grumbling under his breath.

Daryl fell behind them, looking at the forest around the tracks to calculate an escape route. He knew without a doubt in his body that this group of particular group of men are up to no good. Before he could get a good look of his surroundings, Joe called to him.

"Son, get your young ass up here and talk to me. I want know to know how the hell you ended up on that road, sitting there like fresh bait," he waved his arm, motioning him to catch up next to him.

Concealing his hesitance, Daryl walked alongside Joe in silence. He ran through potential answers through his head before answering—making sure he didn't give too much away. There was a chance that Rick and the others were alive… a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. And Beth. He sure as hell didn't want to say anything that'll put her in danger. These men, especially the man with the compound bow would hurt her in ways a man shouldn't hurt a woman in a heartbeat.

"So?" Joe looked up expectantly, wanting for an answer.

Daryl wasn't going to give up information so easily. "So, what?" The conversation seemed strangely familiar, he almost didn't remember until Beth's smiling face popped up in his mind. Oh, right. Before he stupidly opened the damn door without checking what's outside, he was in the kitchen with Beth. He watched the recognition spread on her face when she realized it was she who changed his mind about the finding good in people.

Throughout the entire time she was teasing him, he couldn't get over the fact that she was there—with him. Whether it was a choice by God or his own… he silently vowed to protect her. To protect the faith in her, to protect her sanity and the very thing she made him believe—goodness. A quirked smirk appeared on his face as he thought of her. The things she would say now, about these people, and how there must be goodness in them too. That had to be what she would say… it was so… Beth.

"Are you thinking about your woman?" Joe let out a loud snort of laughter. "'Cus only the thought of a woman can make a man smile like you just did right that second ago."

Stunned, Daryl shook his head and denied vehemently, "She ain't mine."

"Oh, so there is a lady love, eh? Where she at?"

_Fuck_. Daryl inwardly grimaced at his slip-up. Leave it to him to give away that there was a female with him. Currently though, it might not be a bad situation, considering she is missing. This may work out to his advantage; deceive them to find Beth and hightail it the hell out of there before they can hurt either one of them.

"She ain't 'round here. Gone missing," Daryl drawled out nonchalantly, calculating the next steps to take.

"That's too bad, young fellar. It's good to have a woman by your side in these hard times. Harder to keep 'em safe but you know what, at least they serve us a good purpose," Joe shouted merrily to the rest of the group so they can hear. They returned with snickers and raunchy agreements.

Daryl's hands clenched into fists, one around his crossbow, the other at his side. He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid to them. But how dare they speak so poorly of Beth? They see women as a source of entertainment—an outlet of pleasure to use and then discard. Not him, though. He never saw Beth as such. A part of him did wonder though, if the walkers hadn't caved into the funeral home, would he and Beth have gone a different route. God, the way she stared at him made his insides stir alive. She looked so damn angelic and beautiful by the candlelight—it was hard to erase that ethereal image of her, not that he wanted to.

He'll remember her. He'll never forget her face even if she died, or he. Whichever came first.

"Well I don't know about you fellars, but I need to take a piss and rest my legs. I ain't as young as you guys. Randy, go fetch us somethin' to eat why don'cha? Your loud ass mouth done and got us run out of that nice house we were in," Joe turned and started to bark orders. Surprisingly, the men followed it with albeit little to no objections.

The other bowman, Randy, the one who made the snide remark about his jacket stalked deeper into the forest as the rest of the group prepared a campsite for the night. Daryl had noticed then, that it was well into the afternoon. How long had he been chasing after the tire tracks? How long had he been walking with these group of bandits? His body ached, and his head pounded in his ears. He was beyond exhausted.

He kept a hawk's eye on each and every single one of the guys in this group, safe for Randy. He had yet come across two guys' name; they seem like an outcast of the group. One of them is significantly older than the rest, but he didn't seem to be as old as Joe—early fifties perhaps. The only evidence of his age is his large stomach and the bald spot on the crown of his head. The other, is a younger fellow, wearing a green cap backwards—a younger, innocent looking face. He was perhaps in his mid to late twenties. The other three, including Randy seemed to be in friendly relations with Joe.

He had to formulate a plan, to turn them against each other.

They each took a spot in the campsite; the younger male took the first shift in guarding. The sky had darkened into night, and Randy had yet to come back. Joe muttered under his voice about the lousiness of his friend, "If it weren't for his daddy telling me 'a take care of him. I would'a shot his ass and moved on!" he laughed and joked with the other two. The male with the balding head looked slightly uncomfortable, and the younger male turned away—pretending to ignore the conversation.

He was so damn exhausted, his spot under the tree felt mighty comfortable. Despite his better judgment, Daryl dozed off to sleep while resting against the trunk, clutching his crossbow to his body and a hand on his knife.

* * *

Morning came too quickly; Daryl awoke to sounds of rustling in the background. His eyes shot open to find a squirrel racing between trees. His stomach grumbled, as if reminding him he had not had a meal since the walkers invaded the funeral home. Grabbing his crossbow, he stalked into the woods, following the escaping rodent.

It hadn't taken him too long to find the squirrel on the tree of its nest. Hell, it wasn't hard for him to track at all. He aimed his crossbow and took his shot. Target hit. He could feel his stomach doing flips of joy at the notion of having something to eat. He thought of where to cook it, since a small rodent like such would hardly fill even one grown man up.

"That there squirrel is claimed." Daryl heard a voice behind him. Randy, the other bow man.

"Been out here since the sun came up. You see, the rules of the hunt don't mean jack around here," his posture was tense and annoyed, as if ready to strike. "Now that rabbit 'chu holding, is claimed, _Boy_." He purposely degraded him, trying to get him riled up.

"Claimed, whether you like it or not. So, if I's your, I'd hand it over. Now. Before you get a wishing you ain't never get out of bed this morning," Randy straightened his back, appearing taller than Daryl.

Daryl looked at him for a brief moment, studying him. "It ain't yours," he grounded out before brushing past him.

"No, I bet this bitch," Randy began, with a goading smirk on his face. "… got you all messed up. Hmm? Am I right?" He let out a raunchy laugh when he saw Daryl stop walking away from him. "Got 'chu walking 'round here like a dead man, who just lost hisself a piece of tail. Must'a been a good'un."

"Tell me somethin', was it one of the little ones?" A knowing smile plastered over his face. "Cuz, they don't last too long out here, if you know what I'm saying."

Daryl's hand hovered over his knife in its sheath, the suppressed every muscle in his body to not turn around and slit this guy's throat and cut out his tongue. He was damn tired of hearing these crude remarks about women, about Beth. So help him God, if this damn idiot said another word to him about Beth…

"Where can I find 'er? Since I see 'chu being all tense like that, she must be one sweet fuck," Randy taunted on, grabbing his package in his hand for emphasize.

He saw red. Fury burned in his blood, wanting to murder the man right here, right now. He dropped the dead squirrel and his crossbow onto the ground before launching at Randy, with his knife clutched in his hand. The poor fellow never saw the attack coming. He stumbled backwards and fell onto his back with a loud thud as branches snapped under him.

Daryl gripped his neck with one hand, and the other, with the knife, curled around the handle and punched his face repeatedly until Randy's blood began pooling in his mouth and nose. He gurgled for him to stop, his arms frantically pounding it against Daryl's shoulders in futile attempts to make him release his throat.

"You better fucking watch your mouth, _boy_," Daryl hissed after he leaned in closer to Randy's face, their nose only inches apart. "You're damn lucky that I ain't going to kill you right now. You better thank your daddy's friend in the camp over there." He punched Randy's battered face a few more times for emphasize, and shoved himself onto his feet.

He grabbed _his_ squirrel and crossbow and left the idiot bleeding there.

* * *

Daryl stalked back into the camp, his mind still sour from the situation with Randy earlier. A part of him wanted to leave and go search for Beth on his own, but he knew there was safety in numbers. Even if the numbers included a few psychopathic rednecks. He made a fire quickly and consumed his cook squirrel before he decided he should return.

His defenses were up, knowing Joe wouldn't be too happy about one of his own returning with a broken nose and possible, a broken jaw. He didn't care too much.

"Well son, you done and got his face all broken up," Joe quirked a smirk on his face. "What happened?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the older man's reaction. He couldn't detect if he was being serious or waiting for the right moment to strike. It was better to be on the cautious side. "He shouldn'ta been talking about my girl like that," he growled. His hands instinctively prepared his crossbow for a fight.

"Your girl? I thought you said she ain't yours?" Joe raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Well I lied; you got a problem with that?" Daryl decided it was best to play the role of the overprotective, worried boyfriend. If these were good people, which clearly they're not, they would back off and hopefully, keep their dirty paws off of Beth if they ever found her. Daryl didn't even bother to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Silence ensued between Joe and Daryl. The younger man, who was on guard last night, spoke up to break the tension. "We better start getting out of there, judging by the sun, it's nearly noon. We need to put as much space as we can between us and the walkers. The blood will attract them," he nodded at the puddle of blood on the dirt floor beside Randy.

Apparently his nose stopped bleeding. Well, damn.

Joe narrowed his eyes at Daryl, taking a long look at him—as if sizing him up. He hacked a cough and spit into the ground before turning his gaze away, beginning to direct orders for the men to clear out. He turned around and pointed a finger at Daryl, "You walk in front of me where I can keep my eyes on you."

"Like hell I'll do that. You'll fucking shoot me point blank," Daryl raised his crossbow and aimed it at Joe, ready for a standoff.

"Son, I ain't got time for this shit. Put that damn thing down and you can walk next to me like yesterday. Let's just pretend this shit ain't never happened. You don't get hurt, I don't get hurt. Deal?"

At some point, after the long, intense stare Daryl gave him, he relented and walked up to Joe. The group of six began heading towards the tracks again, with the younger fellow supporting Randy with his shoulders.

It had been a good few hours before they noticed something in the distance. A tunnel. As dark as a blackhole itself. As they got closer, an uneasy feeling in Daryl's chest began to bubble.

"Would 'chu look at that, there some tire tracks right there!" Joe pointed at the dirt covered patch beyond the rock and gravel of the train tracks.

Daryl's heart leaped in his chest—hope began to take hold of him and he grew anxious. With adrenaline pumping in his body, he soared over to the tracks. "They're the same," he whispered to no one in particular. The tire tracks were the same ones he was following earlier. It had to be Beth.

It had to be.

"Get your flashlights ready boys, we're going in for a fun-ride," a merciless smile appeared on Joe's face. He was eager, almost itching to be in a fight.

Daryl leaped back up onto the tracks and loaded his crossbow, ready to take on what's within the tunnel. As they stepped closer, the darkness began to engulf them. With the diminishing daylight, they had to hurry. As they inched closer to the entrance, then slowly step by step into it they heard a sudden class of metal against concrete.

A loud horn sounded through the tunnel—a car's horn. And within, a scream was echoed down the dark passage… the sound of a female's scream.

"Beth!" Daryl's eyes widen minutely in shock, before throwing all caution aside, snatching a flashlight and darted into the dark depths.

/

**JR**- Chapter two done! Woohoo! Thanks for the reviews guys! Special thanks to _Slytherin-Princess_! I'm glad you made it out of nursing school alive! Now if only I can!

_Next up: Beth's side! _

Leave some feedback! Thanks for reading guys!


	3. Hell on Earth

**Take Me as I Am**  
_Chapter 3  
[Hell on Earth]_

Beth's head felt like dead weight on her shoulders. She couldn't remember what happened last night, or where she's at. All she could think about was looking into Daryl's depthless blue eyes and his shaggy beard. A monotone humming in the background and the jerking of her resting place alerted her that she was no longer on the ground. She was in some sort of vehicle—bound by her hands.

Her eyes shot open—_oh shit_. Panic began to set in.

She remembered last night as clear as day now that her mind wasn't muddled by whatever the hell that man covered over her nose and mouth.

She remembered running down the trail and towards the road, just as Daryl instructed her. There was only one walker that followed her out of the funeral home, but she didn't bother to look behind her a second time. A car, it was too dark to notice the color, pulled up beside her… and a man in black with a Roman collar stepped out, a beaded cross tossing roughly around his neck.

"Get in! Before they catch up, hurry!" said the middle aged man.

Beth thought she could trust a man of faith. She bobbed her head in a nod and shouted, "My friend, he's right behind me! I can't leave him behind!" She hobbled to his car, trying to keep her sack from slipping over her shoulders.

"Alright, he has to be quick!" she heard him say frantically before he duck into his car to what she thought was he grabbing a few weapons.

She turned around, her back facing him to search the path she was just on to look for Daryl. It turned out that she couldn't trust anyone, even a man in the garbs of a priest. A cloth with some sort of scent covered her mouth and nose, and the next thing she knew; she was fighting a losing battle against the man. The few seconds of struggle felt like hours, but she fought like a wildcat—scratching his face with her nails. But just like that, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and lost consciousness.

And here she was now, bound and thankfully not gagged but she had some sort of tape covering her mouth. She peered over her shoulder—it seems like she was on the floor of the vehicle, behind the passenger's side. Her body ached all over, her ankle throbbed sorely, making her wish Daryl was here massaging the pain away. Despite the pain, she craned her neck forward, titled her head a bit to the right to catch a glimpse of her captor.

He was indeed, the priest who 'helped' her last night. From the floor of the vehicle, she noticed a railroad crossing side fly by the backseat windows amongst the blur of green. Beth Greene was not a dunce by any means, and if Daryl had taught her anything right—it was tracking direction. The way that the car was jerking, she knew it had to be on the tracks. From the position of the sun, she judged it to be around noon, midday.

Her breath hitched in her throat—_midday_. If her captor had been driving since kidnapping her, they could be hundreds of miles away by now. Even if she managed to escape, would she even be able to find him… better yet… was Daryl even looking for her? Bile bubbled from her stomach to her throat at the thought of being abandoned by him. Dare she even try to hope he's coming after her?

She had to hold back a scoff, _why would he?_ She had nothing to offer him; in fact, she was more of a nuisance than of help to him.

"Damn it!" she heard her captor screech before the car jerked to side, running over some large bump and sliding down what sounded like a gravel or rock hill. Beth could only assume that they slide off the train tracks, at her level she was still unable to see below the treetops.

"God damnit! Stokes, watch the damn road why don't you?" a voice shrieked within the car.

That's new. Beth strained to see who the female in the passenger seat was, but she failed to see anything but a mass of dirty, long curly blond hair.

"I've been driving all night, lady. Cut me some damn slack!" she heard him say. Father Stokes, if she should even give him the holy honorifics, proceeded to open his driver's side door to inspect the damage. The other passenger proceeded to get out of the vehicle, presumably to irritate him more.

"If you don't want to drive, I can. Lord knows I'm the better driver here. Don't know why they even handed you the keys in the first place," the lady sneered, her disapproval apparent in her voice. "And besides, you didn't drive all night. You had to pull into that damn abandoned barn to take a fucking nap!" Adding fuel to her fire, Father Stokes argued back, vehemently.

Ah ha, so they hadn't been driving through the night. There was a good chance that she was close enough to track Daryl if she managed to escape. Beth wished she could cover her ears from their use of their Holy Father's name in vain as their argument escalated. But this was a new world, shrinking away from such minor unpleasantries was no longer acceptable.

At least, not if she wanted to survive.

She immediately began working loose her rope bonds. Her mouth tasted sour when she noticed the old, dried blood stains in the ivory colored woven rope. She wasn't their first victim.

She certainly will not let herself become one of them either. It felt like hours but she almost had the bond loosened to where she could slip a hand out until the driver's and passenger's doors opened and her two captors slipped into their seats. This time, the female was driving.

Beth took a long look at the older woman. She had to be in her late thirties to forties judging by the start of wrinkles on her face. She could be mistaken though; living in a zombie covered world doesn't exactly preserve age or beauty. She jumped in surprise when her female captor started the car sharply, and peeled the car back onto the tracks.

It had only been a most a minute or two before Beth noticed they were heading into a tunnel as the darkness engulfed the daylight. Panic began to set in anew. What were they thinking? Going into a dark tunnel when walkers were still lurking about? One could hardly tell the difference between night and day within the tunnel. In fact, it seemed even darker within this tunnel than it would be in a night sky with no moon or stars.

Her breath quickened, her pounding pulse deafened her ears as the instinct to defend and run began to settle in. She made fast work of her bonds, roughly yanking her hands from the loosen bonds, not caring that the top layers of her skin had been sheared off by the action. She groped around the floor in the darkness, hoping to find a weapon of sorts. The search almost felt fruitless until her fingers graced the cold metal of a familiar knife. In the darkness, she could make out the pattern of the stag handles of her hunting knife. She quickly did a limb check, rotating her ankles and hands as if to warm them up for a fight.

Just about when she steadied herself to attack, in the headlights beyond the windshield, a horde of walkers awoken to the stimulus of potential food. She swore she could see some of them smile at the thought of food just driving towards them. Before she had a chance to react, her female captor shrieked, jerking the steering wheel to turn right. The metal of the car groaned and squealed as it collided with solid concrete.

The next few seconds were a blur to Beth. She fell backwards, her back slammed against the backseat, her knife flying out of her hands. She heard Father Stokes whimper frightfully and her lady captor screaming for him to help her as a few walkers shattered the driver's side window.

Beth remained stunned in the backseat as she witnessed the horrific scene around her. The blond hair lady clumsily slammed her hand against the car's horn in attempts to escape the grasps of the walkers. In a desperate attempt, she unlocked the driver's side door and shoved it open, running into awaiting walkers with their mouths salivating at the sight of food. The lady screamed a bloodcurdling scream as one of the walkers lunged at her, grabbing her by her hair and sinking its contaminated teeth into the flesh of her shoulders. Just like ants, the walkers began swarming over the shrieking woman, tearing her flesh by the mouthful.

Their groans almost sounded satisfied as she watched them chew on bloodied flesh, the light of the undamaged headlight of the car provided at least that much clarity. She didn't want to die, not here… not now. Immediately, she sprang into action, driven by the rush of pure adrenaline. She thanked the Lord that the door without the walkers, the side facing the concrete wall was undamaged, and she was able slip out of the vehicle.

The walkers were too preoccupied with the body on the ground, to notice the silent click when she opened her door. She knew she didn't have too much time left. If she ran towards the direction where she came from, at least she'll have some light. And scanning from where she crouched now, she saw the dim light at the end of the tunnel. It was far, but she can make it. She won't fail—she refused to allow herself to. She owed it that much to her daddy. She rummaged through the car quickly to locate her dropped knife. It didn't take long to find it settled on the backseat of the car.

Just when she was about to make a mad dash towards the light, the passenger's side door behind her opened, and it clattered loudly against the concrete wall. Walkers looked up at the sound, their heads turning towards them. Father Stokes, oblivious to the walkers starting to creep towards the car, he sank onto his knees. "Take me with you, save me, please!"

Beth squinted in the dimness of the tunnel and noticed that his leg was at an odd angle. Her lips trembled—it was broken. How could she save him when she has an injured ankle herself? Beth backed away slowly, scared and confused. Her heart ached for him, despite what he had done to her. But he was alive… he was human.

"Please, please don't leave me… For the love of God, please don't leave me… " he sobbed, crawling to her on his knees and hands.

Her instincts screamed for her legs to run. But she couldn't leave him here knowing that walkers will be his fate. He was a man of faith… she couldn't turn her back on him. Shaking with adrenaline, she reached down and yanked him onto his feet with as much energy as she could muster and hauled his left arm over her shoulder, gripping her knife in the hand not supporting Father Stokes. "Be quick about it!" she hissed as she took a step forward, and he followed.

Most of the walkers, a minimum count of ten were done consuming the body of the blond hair lady. They heard the grunting of Father Stokes as he tried to hop forward, following Beth's every move. It didn't matter that they had a head start. The fact that they both have injured limbs didn't help either one of them one bit.

"Hurry, hurry up!" She shouted her voice cracked, scared and frantic.

With every step they took, the walkers took two.

As the two hurried their pace, the walkers followed, even faster.

It didn't take long until the walkers were only an arm's length behind them. The thought of being devoured by walkers didn't bode well for the both of them, eliciting a surge of energy for them to hobble faster towards the lighted end of the tunnel. It gave her hope, for the briefest of seconds that they were going to make it.

Until he tripped, taking her with him.

While he fell directly onto the ground in front of him, Beth was shoved into the side of the tunnel, slamming her shoulder against the concrete walls. It happened so suddenly, the walkers were suddenly upon them, clawing at them with ice cold hands, snapping their jaws of death at their faces. Father Stokes began screaming as the walkers began to sink their rotting teeth into his flesh. The sound of flesh and skin and clothes ripping roared thunderously in her ears.

No, she didn't want to die. She can't. She never did get to say goodbye to Daryl, her only connection to her missing and deceased family.

The walkers swarmed in around Father Stokes's screaming form, attracted by his scent of blood and shrieks of pain, "Help me! Help me!"

Beth wrestled with the flimsy, thin walker on top of her. One of her hands gripped at the walker's neck while the other searched for her fallen knife on the gravel floor. The sheer friction caused the gravel to pierce her skin, drawing blood into the air. As more and more walkers emerged from beyond the shadows, Beth prayed with all her soul.

_God, just light me a path… I can't die now, I can't!_

Momentary relief washed over her when her hand came across the handle of her knife, just as she had earlier. The great Lord up in the sky was definitely watching over her. Quickly, she clutched her knife tightly in her hand and plunged the knife into the walker's head. The decaying corpse went limp in her arms, and she kicked it to the side.

Not wasting a precious second, she scrambled onto her feet and started to make a mad dash towards the end of the tunnel. She only took but two steps before she heard Father Stokes's eerie voice. "Help… me…" he gasped as his innards where being slew about the walkers.

Beth turned briefly, teary eyed she shook her head. There was nothing she could do for him… she couldn't save him. '_I'm sorry_,' she mouthed, her voice failed her.

"God have… places… for people … who … turn against… his … people," he rasped, before the life in his eyes gave away and his body stilled. She turned away, shaken by the death of her captor and started to run towards the end again.

She knew the walkers were on her tail, some of them already had had enough of the fallen priest's body. With their appetites insatiable, they wanted more. They wanted her.

Her eyes blurred as tears began falling down her stained cheeks. She turned her back against a man of faith; she turned her back against a human. Her sobs racked through her body, unable to control her emotions, slowing her down. She despised the state of their world now. It was quite literally Hell on earth. Stricken with grief and incoordination, she slipped on one of the board planks of the railroad tracks.

This was it.

She knew the walkers were only a few steps away from her, with an injured ankle, she hardly gotten very far. Her energy spent, she laid there, numb. She didn't dare turn around to face her death in their eyes. A part of her just wished they would eat her brains first like how some old seventies horror movies were. At least then, she wouldn't have to endure the pain of being torn limb by limb.

She could feel the walkers' just inches away; she could imagine them starting to drop on their knees to devour her flesh. She could almost feel their teeth sinking into her skin.

But the pain of their jaws never came.

Instead, gunshots echoed in the tunnel, flying past her head. Something heavy dropped on top of her, a walker. She screamed, quickly scrambling away from the heavy corpse.

Beth looked up to find people, humans rushing past her to dispose of the few zombies closest to her. But the horde was too great, more and more began to gush out of the darkness of the tunnel. She sat there, numb and uncertain of what to do next. Even if she did, her energy was nonexistent.

"Beth! Beth!"

She didn't know if she was imaging him or not, but she saw Daryl crouching in front of her, with a worried but relieved look on his face. His lips were moving but she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Damnit Beth, come to your fucking senses!" Daryl grasped her shoulders and shook her, hard.

Her head lolled about, but her eyes were still dazed but focused on him. "Daryl? Am I dreaming?"

"Why the fuck would I be in your dreams, girl? Get on my back, _now_!" He quickly spun on his heels and bared his back to her. "Damn it Beth, get on! I ain't leaving you here to be chewed on by these dead bastards!" He reached behind him quickly and slapped her across her face.

Beth's head snapped to her side, her gaze no longer distant. Her eyes saw Daryl's broad shoulders and back and jumped on, wrapping her legs around his lean waist. She heard some commands from a male in the background, but she couldn't make out what he said.

The gunfire ceased and grunting of the undead began to dwindle before it vanished completely. The tunnel grew brighter and brighter as she was being jostled on Daryl's back as he ran for safety. The sudden glare of sunlight onto her skin burned her, and blinded her vision. She clenched her eyes shut and buried her face as deep into his hair as she could.

All her emotions, her doubts, her concerns vanished for the time being. All she could focus on was the warmth and scent of earth and sweat emanating from her savior. After all, he searched for her. She knew without a doubt, he was here to save her.

He was her hero; her knight in shining armor, through and through.

/

**JR-** He saves her! Yay! But the danger's not over yet folks, there's always a price to pay for helping someone out.

_Thanks for reading, please leave some reviews and feedback! It helps us writers get motivated and get the brain juices a-flowing! _


	4. Grace of God

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 4  
[_Grace of God_]

_'… Save me… save me please…'_

She spun on her heels to come be greeted by the decomposing body of the dead Father Gabriel.

_'You turned your back on me…'_

She shook her head vehemently, unable to voice her words at this given moment. She took a step back, her arms groping the air around her hoping to find something of use. Nothing. Darkness surrounded her, as dark as the night with no moon. Yet, the dead Father's face had light shining upon him—as if the sun was directly above them.

His decaying face inched closer and closer, but where can she run to? Where can she hide? There was nothing around that could help her. She shrieked frightfully as his face zipped right in front of her, their nose only a couple of inches apart. Frozen in shock and fear, she could do nothing but whimper and stare at his dead, soulless dark eyes.

_'You're going to Hell, Bethany Greene…'_

"No!" she cried, her voice was etched with doubt. "I ain't going to die… I'm not going to... No!"

_'Oh… but you're so wrong! You're already dead!'_

His face began to bounce around her, taunting her. His sinister laughter filled her ears, and her soul with doubt and fear. She crouched down onto the ground, her hands covering her ears hoping to drown out his jeering words.

_'No one can save you now… you're going to Hell, Bethany Greene!'_

In the darkness, she felt the ground beneath her feet give and suddenly, the sensation of falling overtook her body. She screeched in fear, unconsciously screaming his name before she felt the cold hands of death gripping around her neck as she fell.

"DARYL!"

-0-

"BETH!" He knew she was having some sort of nightmare, but that didn't stop him from getting irritated at her thrashing and whimpering while he was carrying her on his back. Like some sort of pack ass. In the past few minutes, her thrashing had gone from little cottontail kicks to full-blown kangaroo crazy.

Because obviously, having a huge crossbow hanging across his chest wasn't strenuous enough. Or an over-hundred pound girl on his back, but that said girl was kicking the hell out of his thighs. And he has had enough.

He jerked to a stop in midstride, his mind made up on dropping her flat on her ass—that is until he heard her soft sob for help and suddenly went still.

"… Daryl… please… save…"

He felt her hot tears drip onto the bare skin of his neck where her head rested, instantly regretting his would-be hasty decision in harming her. It alarmed him that she had grown limp so suddenly after nearly half an hour of thrashing about. "Beth?"

He turned his head and tried to catch a glimpse of her face from the corner of his eyes. All he saw was the mess of blond hair on his shoulders. "Beth!" he tried again, this time he jostled her on his back in attempts to rouse a response from her. He started to panic, swearing loudly when he realized she was hardly breathing.

Daryl didn't care to, nor want to, explain what was going on when he got several curious glances his way when he raced to a nearby tree, gently setting Beth onto the foliage covered ground. "Beth?" he called out her name with a sense of urgency—almost a plea. He gripped the sides of her shoulders, and like earlier in the tunnel, he shook her.

Her head bobbed with the action, but she remained unconscious. He saw her grimace in her sleep, and almost immediately a series of choking sounds emitted from her throat. Her lips seemingly looked paler by the second.

"FUCK!" Daryl bellowed in frustration. He desperately looked around when the men gathered around him—they weren't going to do anything for him. Frantic, his eyes darted to the trees, to Beth's pale face, and to the sky, hoping to find an answer. When he looked at Beth the fourth time, he thought he saw blue in her lips. "God damnit, Beth!"

His first instant thought was to slap her back into their world, as he did in the tunnel. But what good would brute force do for something that seemed to be suffocating from nothing, and he immediately decided against hurting her further. There was only one way he knew of that could save her. Without wasting another second, he settled her onto her back, quickly pressing his ear against her chest to listen for her heart beat. It was fast, rapid—almost frantic.

One hand pinched her nose closed between his thumb and index finger; the other tilted her chin up towards the sky. He sucked in a gust of air before bending over and roughly covered her mouth with his. He breathed for her. Once… twice… three times… Yet she remained choking in her state of unconsciousness. He tried again, inhaling deeply; he once again covered her lips with his.

After the sixth breath, he heard Joe speak.

"That's enough son… I don't think she's gonna make it. It's best we just put her out of her misery."

"Any of you son-a-bitches touch her, I'm gonna skin you alive," Daryl snarled, his focus still on Beth. "She ain't gone here yet! I ain't done with her!" In his final desperation, Daryl pulled her up by her arms and rested her back against the tree once more. He pinched off her nose with one hand, the other wrapped around her neck, gently squeezing it. He took in several deep gusts of air, and readied himself to try and resuscitate her. He knew this position wasn't the optimal position, but it allowed him better access to her mouth in the long term. And he was willing to do this for hours, if need be. He wasn't going to give up on her.

He dived in again, covering her mouth with his and began pushing air into her lungs. Once, twice, and a third. He pulled back gasping for his own air only for a few seconds before breathing for her again. The world felt as if it was at a standstill around him. Nothing mattered more to him than saving her life. By his fourth attempt, he was growing increasingly lightheaded—his own body starved for oxygen.

Grown men don't cry.

Grown Dixon men certainly won't cry.

But damn did his heart ache when the doubt of her reviving struck a nerve. Both his hands fell onto her shoulders, his head slumped forward in defeat. He hung his head low, touching his forehead to hers. For as long as he remembered, he never did pray or had any faith in God. But at this moment, Daryl clenched his eyes shut and prayed.

_Listen, God… J. C… Jesus Christ… If you're listening up there… you ain't gonna take her from me. You can't. She's the only person closest to a family I have left. I don't even know if the others are alive… but if by your Grace that they're not… the least you can do is spare her. Please… damnit… I'm begging you. Please…_

Dixon men don't cry… but that thought didn't stop the sparse tears that slipped from the corner of his eyes despite his self-control. He felt Beth go silent altogether—her gasping and choking had stopped. A part of him wondered if she died, and that she will be turning into one of the walkers and wake up to eat his flesh. God, how much he would hate to put a knife through her skull. He didn't know if he could it to her. Killing Merle, walker Merle, was the hardest thing he ever did in his life. He didn't know if he had the strength to put an end to Beth as well.

Muddled by his thoughts, he nearly missed the gasp of air and the sudden shake of her body— a low groan emitted from her throat. His hands instinctively released her and sank backwards onto his heels. He found the handle of his knife, ready to defend. A sickening thought of removing her jaw and arms and putting a collar around her popped through his head. If it came to that, he would do it… For all he knew, she was the last piece of what was family from the prison.

His steel blue eyes flew up to her face, expecting to see the clouded, dull grey eyes of a dead walker. Instead, red teary crystal blue eyes stared right back at him.

"Daryl…" he heard her hoarse, _alive_ voice pass through her lips.

He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, "What… what the hell?!" A wave of relief rushed over him, by the grace of God, he supposed, Beth lived. He released the grip to his knife and reached out in front of him and pulled her flushed into his chest. His arms encircled around her shoulders and laid his chin atop the crown of her head. "What the hell was that Beth?" he scolded, the anger missing from his voice.

"I… I couldn't wake up… I knew I was dreaming but," she sobbed, her arms gripped the back of his vest in a tight fist. "But I couldn't wake up… it felt like someone was choking me… he was telling me that I was going to Hell… and for a moment there…" she pulled away from his embrace and looked into his eyes. "… I believed him. I almost gave up. I almost…"

Daryl shushed her, brushing her tears off with the back of his hand. He brushed back her unbound blond hair from her face, thanking the Lord silently. He handed her his container of water and motioned for her to drink. "Yeah, for a second there I thought you were gonna come back and try 'nd bite me," he cracked a watery grin on his face, trying to lighten her mood.

He supposed it worked when a small tinkling laugh, almost inaudible, escaped her lips. "Good thing too," she began; her eyes twinkled with mild mirth, and handed the bottle back to him. "I don't think you will taste very appetizing."

For a moment there, everything felt normal. Almost… good.

That is, until he heard the men behind him snicker and whisper snide comments amongst themselves. "I bet she knows what she's talking about there, huh?"

Daryl saw Beth's disposition change from relaxed to uncertain, alert and almost frightened. She had every mind to be scared. She was the only female for possible miles around, amongst a group of men who undoubtingly know the taste of a woman. He looked straight into her eyes, his gaze firm and unyielding. He hoped she would get his message that he was going to protect her without having him to say it. He saw the light bob of her head, and the small reassuring smile on her face.

She was just too damn trusting sometimes, he couldn't help but think.

"Hey now folks, we don't use that kind of language around the presence of a lady," Joe spoke up, taking a step closer to Daryl and Beth.

Daryl immediately tensed, and positioned himself for a fight.

"Whoa, now there, Daryl. Easy does it. I ain't gonna hurt you or the girl. I don't go that way," he tilted his chin upwards, with pride and dignity. "I'm suggesting we make camp around here somewhere since the little lady had such an adventure. I'm getting beat too. Is she up for some walking?" he nodded at Beth.

Daryl nodded, and gruffly answered him, "Yeah, she is."

"Well, alright then. Let's move out then folks," Joe turned his back to Daryl and began heading back towards direction of the railroad tracks.

Daryl didn't bother to wait for the men to follow. He didn't want to be behind the group. In order to protect her from the dangers of men, he had to make a statement. He turned around and crouched in front of Beth, looking into her eyes. "Can you walk?" he whispered in his deep baritone husk.

He saw her put her injured foot on the ground and tried to push herself up, but was only partially successful.

"It's sore, but I think I can manage," she whispered to him.

Daryl nodded, stepped beside her and slipped an arm around her slim waist and had her wrap her arm around his shoulder. He hauled her up on her feet, his body supporting her injured ankle. He felt her knees give slightly from the sudden increase of weight around his shoulders. "Are you sure you can walk? I can carry you on my back."

She flashed him a tired grin, "I think I'm done with sleeping for the next few days… let's get going."

"Hm," he nodded. With him supporting most of her weight from her injured ankle, they made their way to the middle of the group; behind Joe but in front of the other guys. As they got onto the tracks, Daryl lowered his hand from her waist to the swell of her hips and pulled her closer to him. "Play along," he whispered low enough for her to hear only, keeping his gaze forward.

"'Kay," she whispered. "I trust you, Daryl."

/

**JR-** It was a bit slow in the beginning, but at least they're together now!

I'm going to amend my first chapter Author note about Beth's age. I'll go in and fix it later. The first chapter she'll be 19, and 18 from the second. Sorry folks, I got my ages all confused.

Thanks for the reviews so far everyone, and thanks for reading this story of mine. I don't personally answer reviews through PM but if there are questions or concerns expressed in reviews, I will post them up with the following chapters in my end Author Notes. But feel free to PM me if you like!

_I kinda-secretly-dream-wish for more reviews at night! _

_Please review and thanks for reading! _


	5. Demons

**WARNING: EXPLICIT VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER. DO NOT READ IF YOU WILL BE OFFENDED BY THIS MATERIAL. **

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 5_  
[Demons]_

"Alright folks, here be a good place to rest for tonight," Joe nodded at the metal warehouses with rusted junk cars in the yard. "Them car workshops offer some mighty good protect from these walkers once can we secure it. We'll head out again tomorrow morning." He pointed at the closest building, its rusted door partially protected by a raised porch rail.

Some of the men grunted in response, while a few just followed behind the others silently. They approached the door cautiously, readying themselves for the unexpected.

Daryl reached over at his belt and withdrew the knife Beth had dropped inside the tunnel earlier this morning. "Hang on to this and don't lose it again. Ever. And don't leave this spot 'til I say you can, got it?"

He watched her bright blue eyes burn with defiance, a frown marred her dirt covered face. "I ain't a kid. You don't have to talk to me like that."

He stared at her for the longest moment, emotions absent from his face. He knew she wasn't a child. Hell, there had been so many occasions where she did prove having more skill and grit than many of the old friends in the prison. Still, a part of him never wanted her to leave his side again. He hated being alone. He caught her angry frown change into a curious, questioning look when he stared at her for a bit too long for her comfort. "I ain't say you were," he gritted out before abruptly releasing her hip and shoulders to join the men in clearing the building.

It didn't take long before the last of the walkers were disposed of and tossed to a corner of the lot, out of sight and out of mind. Daryl wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeves of his jacket and entered the building to do a double take of the security of the place.

Like Joe had said, it was certainly a safer place than a house once the lot has been secured. The windows were high up, out of the uncoordinated climbing of the walkers. Walls made of reinforced steel and concrete, with two metal doors. If it weren't for these men with him and Beth, he would've set this place up as a safe house.

"So, she must be that little bitch that has you wound up on her little finger huh?" Randy sneered behind him as they made their way towards the exit of the building.

Daryl stopped mid-stride, his shoulders tensed up considerably. His nostril flared as he took in a deep breath of the oxygen rich air as his heart began racing in anticipation. He was going to kill this bastard, right here… right now. No more excuses.

Not sensing the impending doom his way, Randy continued his taunting. "Man, if I had me a nice piece of ass like hers… I'd be all wound up after her tail too. Fuck, you mind sharing?"

Daryl gripped the handle to his knife, and with a rustle of his clothing, he closed in the distance between him and Randy. His knife effectively found its way to the man's throat, just a light breath away from slitting it wide open. "I dare you to fucking say that to me one more time, motherfucker."

His eyes narrowed when Randy's grin grew wider, laughter racked through his body and echoed within the workshop. "What? Did I say somethin' wrong, fellar?" He put his arms up to each side, a mocking gesture of surrender. "You have my deepest, upmost sincerest apologies," Randy jeered, not caring that the sharp blade pierced against his skin, leaving angry red streaks alongside his neck.

Daryl had every intention to just jerk his hand and end the life of this miserable excuse for a man, if not for the hand that gripped his right shoulder.

"I ain't gonna say he's a gentleman, Daryl. He's got a foul mouth just like his daddy. You got a choice here, and if you choose the wrong one… well I can't guarantee your safety here in this group," the person, Joe reasoned, his grip on his shoulder tightened firmly. "You gotta think about the little lady too," he added in a whisper, allowing for his ears to hear only.

Daryl's insides burned with rage—he was so damn angry he could spit blood. But he knew Joe was right, as much as he didn't want to. Here, it was just him and Beth against six grown, armed men. It would be a straight path to Hell if he killed Randy now. Eventually, he'll get his. Daryl bit his tongue and shoved Randy roughly, causing the jeering male fall onto his back. He shrugged off Joe's hand and stalked out to the tracks, where Beth waited for him.

He saw her concerned stare as he approached closer, but he didn't say a word. Making sure the knife was secured around its sheath on her hip; he hoisted her up in his arms.

"What is it?" She asked, concerned.

"Nothin'," he grunted as he made his way up the few steps of stairs. He then settled her onto her feet. After straightening his posture, he reached over and put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her intently. "Stay where I can see you," he said in a hushed tone after a long pause, then released his hands and stalked into the building.

-0-

A part of her wondered what could've made Daryl so moody. It had only been yesterday that he mentioned staying in the funeral home for good. She wished that plan had come true, maybe then… maybe then she wouldn't have to fight her demons.

The chill of the night wind caressed her body, raising the hairs straight against her skin. The thought of spending the night with the group of strangers made her heart race in anxiety, the only thing that gave her hope and reassurance was Daryl. She knew, without a doubt, he'll protect her. Taking in a shaky breath, she took entered the rust and fuel scented building.

She felt like a chunk of bloody meat in a lion's den.

All eyes were on her, analyzing her every move. With her head held high, her gaze steady, she tensed her injured ankle and walked over to Daryl, settling close by him. She hoped she didn't look like she was limping too much—it would only mean she was an easy target. As soon as she sat onto the musty floor, the group returned to their duties.

"Claim," a few of them began saying, tossing their bags over the rusted cars.

Beth watched them warily; questions began forming in her head. Where they claiming the cars with a word? From the corner of her eye, she saw the other bowman, Randy, watching her.

"Claim!" he hollered loudly and spat noisily onto the floor in front of him, all the while watching her.

She turned her head, fully facing him, a glare of disgust in her eyes. She scoffed at his insinuating grin when he wiggled his eyebrows and humped the air in front of him. Her stomach churned with fear, knowing exactly what he wanted, but she didn't let it show. She couldn't. Instead, she turned her back to him and scooted closer to Daryl, who had his eyes clenched shut, his posture tense.

She let out a soft sigh of exhaustion after she tucked her right arm under her head, laying on her right side facing Daryl's body. She wasn't going to lie and say she wasn't tired. But she hated the thought of going to sleep. Awake, she could control her thoughts and actions, but in her dreams… if she were in that nightmare again, she feared Daryl won't be able to save her.

The thought of being taunted in her dreams unnerved her—it wasn't so much the dream, but the reason why she was having it. It was out of her hands, she couldn't have saved him even if she wanted to… but God, did she have such a heavy sense of regret and guilt in her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes, silently slipping from the corner of her eyes and onto the cold concrete floor. A soft sob escaped her lips, her eyes shot up to see if Daryl noticed. Thankfully, his eyes remained closed as if he was slumbering.

She adjusted her position, sniffling as she turned to her left side, her back facing Daryl. She curled her legs closer to her body, conserving as much heat as possible against the chilly floor. A shaky sigh escaped her lips; she tried hard to stop her tears.

She didn't leave God behind. No, He's still deep within her soul but… was He? The words of the fallen priest had cut her deep. It made her realize that she hadn't prayed or thank the Lord for anything since the fall of the prison—since her mother's death. She would be lying if she said she didn't blame a part of the apocalypse on God. Every time she closed her eyes, she could hear the fallen priest's words of the promise of death and Hell. A part of her felt he was right—she felt as if she betrayed the Lord, and it tore her insides up in shreds.

She didn't know if her sobs had awoken one of the men when she heard a loud cough and clearing of the said man's throat. She bit her bottom lip in attempt to stop her crying.

"Beth," she heard Daryl's whisper for her.

She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, turned slightly and looked over her shoulder. "Yeah?" she whispered back, hoping her nose didn't sound too stuffed. It was obvious that she had been crying. She didn't hear him respond; instead she felt his arm around her waist and tugged at her lightly.

"Com'ere," he commanded softly, pulling her towards his body.

Beth submitted; the thought of another human's warmth comforted her. She scooted backwards until her back was just a couple of inches from pressing her body against his.

"Lift your head."

She lifted her head, allowing him to slip his arm under her head, serving as a soft cushion against the hard floor. "Thank you," she whispered her voice still stuffy and hoarse. She felt his body shift to the other side, as if reaching for something. A rustle of plastic sounded and she was soon covered in a small ragged blanket. A small smile grew on her lips, "Thank you," she whispered again.

"Hm," he hummed in response. After a brief moment of silence, she heard him speak. "Somethin' pestering you?"

Beth shook her head lightly, "No." She didn't hear another word from him after that. She was thankful that Daryl Dixon was here to comfort her, out of everyone she could hope for, she was glad it was him. With his body heat radiating off his body and the comfort of his blanket, she soon drifted into a dreamless sleep.

-0-

She awoke to the sensation of heavy pressure in her pelvis, telling her she needed to relieve her bladder. Groggily, she cracked her eyelids apart. The building was still dark with the exception of the ethereal rays of the moon streaming through the windows. She slowly eased herself up, careful not to wake Daryl up. Somehow throughout the night, she ended up turning her body around and had laid her head close to his chest.

A small blush crept onto her face; she had never slept with a man before. Except when she crawled into her parent's bed when she was little during thunderstorms—but that didn't count.

She scooted herself from under the blanket and headed towards the door. At first she thought of using an inconspicuous corner of the building, but the thought of one of the guys watching her urinate made her stomach churn something foul. She reached for the bolt to unlatch it when she realized it was already unlocked. A part of her worried if someone snuck into the building, but if it did happen that way, Daryl would know.

The dull, pressurized pain of her bladder forced her to not dwell on these thoughts any further, and silently she slipped into the short concrete patio. She didn't dare to leave the door unattended, so she settled for the spot right below the staircase. That way, she can keep an eye on the door and have a safe way of alerting the others should a horde come.

She made short work of her jean button and zipper, slipping her jeans past her knees, she crouched down. A part of her wished there was toilet paper, and a hot shower, but she had to make do. Quickly finishing her business, she pulled up her jeans and stepped away from the puddle and started to secure the zipper.

"Hey gal," she heard a voice rasp in her ear. Before she could turn around to see who it is, a calloused hand clasped over her mouth and nose, an arm encircled around her waist and dragged her to the corner of the building. "I'd shut that screaming of yours before I cut your throat," he said the sharp point of a blade pressed against her throat.

Beth thrashed in his grip, pushing and clawing at his flesh with her nails, hoping she could get away. She screamed Daryl's name against the palm of the assaulter's hand.

"Shut the fuck up!" he hissed, withdrawing the hand that covered her mouth and slapped her face hard, rendering her dizzy and uncoordinated. Her arms, weakened, pushed against him once again, her legs kicking against his shins. She felt his sweaty hands grip at her breasts, squeezing it so hard she knew it would bruise if she were to live past this.

Seconds past, her squirming and kicking did nothing to deter her assaulter. A shift of his head, she saw the face of her assaulter in the moonlight through her tear stained eyes—Randy.

"I claimed you, you hear? You're mine," he rasped in his southern drawl, the stench of alcohol filled her nose, dragging his slick tongue against the length of her cheek.

Beth shrieked in terror against the palm of his hand. She felt the tip of the blade disappear from her throat and pierced at her collarbone. The sound of her clothing being ripped in half by the sharp blade sent waves of sheer terror up her spine. For the briefest of moments, he looked into her eyes—wild, and maniac-like.

He yanked her torn shirt past her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the chill of the night air. His hand that once covered her mouth gripped at her neck tightly, cutting off her ability to scream. His other hand made quick work of her unbuttoned jeans, and began to pull the fabric down.

A sudden urge of adrenaline coursed through her body, rearing herself up, she kneed Randy in between his legs. He staggered back momentarily, his face scrunched up in pain. Before Beth could catch her breath, he was on her again, this time; he threw her onto the dirt ground and straddled over her. He pinned her arms above her head with one hand, the other began undoing his belt.

"Stupid bitch, now you're gonna suck my cock to make it up to me," he slapped her across her face again to deter her momentarily. He freed himself finally and inched up her body, his crotch just a few inches away from her face.

She screamed and her head thrashed side to side violently, she jerked her body up with her legs, sending him sprawling on top of her.

"I said quit your mouthing and take it like the bitch you are!" He hissed, his hands moved down to her knees and began to pry it apart.

Beth frantically tried to kick him off of her, but she failed. Her arms flailed about, hoping to find something of use. Her hand touched the cold surface of a rock. Gripping it tightly, she slammed the rock against his skull repeatedly.

Randy screamed in pain, throwing himself to his side, clutching his head.

She saw the cold blade of his knife glisten under the moonlight, at the same time, so did Randy. She had to get it before he did. She got onto her knees and started to crawl towards the blade when she felt his hands on the band of her jeans, pulling it down past her thighs. "No! Get off me! Daryl! Daryl!" she screeched as she tried to get away from him mounting her in an animalistic position.

_God help me, please! Please!_

She felt him grip her hips, bile bubbled up her throat. She was so close, she was almost there. The blade of the cold metal brushed against fingertips when she felt him pull down her underwear.

_Oh God, please…_

"BETH!" She heard Daryl's voice.

"DARYL!" She screamed in return, but she knew he wouldn't reach her in time. She didn't want to lose her virginity by being raped. She would rather die. She stretched her arm a final time, praying she could reach that knife.

She felt his offending appendage pressing against her inner thigh. Horrified, she surged forward, slamming the front of her body against the ground and grasped the blade's handle in her hand. Twisting her body in an utmost uncomfortable and painful position, she turned and shoved the blade deep into Randy's shoulder just before he was able to penetrate her.

Randy howled in pain, shot up on his feet only to fall and lean against the wall, screaming in pain.

"Beth! FUCK!" Through teary eyes, she saw Daryl frozen in place, a few feet away from her and her assaulter. Within a blink of her eyes, Daryl darted past her, fury burning in his eyes. She cried as she pulled her panties and jeans up, her body ached to her bone all over. She heard the others file to the side of the building, armed and wary not knowing what was happening.

"You fucking bastard! I'm gonna fucking kill you!" She heard Daryl bellow. He pulled the knife from Randy's shoulder and shoved him onto his back. Randy didn't—couldn't, put up a fight before the knife descended into his throat. Daryl yanked the knife back, drenched in thick red blood; he slammed the knife repeatedly into Randy's skull until he went limp. Even then, Daryl continued to stab the bastard's skull until there was nothing but the base of his jaw and splattered remains left.

-0-

He wanted this bastard dead. He should've tortured the fucker first, he thought as he was driving the knife into his head. He wasn't going to stop. Not until there was nothing left but bones and scattered pieces of flesh.

"Daryl…" through the slushing of bloodied flesh, he heard her soft plea. His chest heaved rapidly, still not satisfied with his work.

"Please… Daryl…" he heard her soft sobs behind him.

He sneered at the limp body, tore a piece of the body's clothing and wiped his hands clean. "Good fucking riddance," he hissed and spat at the corpse.

He turned around to find her exposed, torn shirt and undone jeans—he was unable to meet her eyes. It ate at his insides to no end that he wasn't there to protect her. If she hadn't stabbed her assaulter in the shoulder, she could've… No.

He refused to be so cowardly. She was able to hold Randy off enough for him to dispose of him that was the fact. And now, she needed him. _Needed him_, desperately. He shrugged off his angel-backed vest and slipped it around her shoulders before crouching down on his knees. His hand reached in front of him to examine her bruising cheek, but she flinched away.

_God_, how his heart ached in his chest when she saw the terror in her eyes. She was afraid—of him… possibly of everyone. "I ain't gonna hurt you honey," he whispered, his tender and apologetic. He watched her bottom lip tremble, her tears pouring out of her eyes in rapid succession. "Beth, I'm here. I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated.

He waited for her to nod her head before he reached forward to caress her cheek. Her skin looked paler than the moon itself. It was no good staying in this group any longer. It could happen again. At least with one down, there was one less person to fight when they had to escape.

"Com'ere," he softly commanded, opening his arms. "I ain't got nothin' to hide honey. You know I won't hurt you." He didn't want to reach towards her until she was ready, until he knew she trusted him. He saw her clench his vest against her body tightly, her knuckle turning white with the force. "You trust me, Beth… don't you?"

She sniffled, wiping her tears with her sleeve. Slowly, she inched closer to him. She was still hesitant, unsure of the anything… everything.

"Honey, it ain't safe out here with all this blood. We gotta get inside. Come on, Beth. It's just me. I'll protect you, Beth… I swear it… this time I will protect you."

He didn't expect her to throw herself into his body, almost knocking him off balance. But he was grateful that she did. He could hear the groans of the undead closing in on them, attracted to the scent of the blood. As much as he hated the thought, they would have to stay in the building for a couple of days for her to recover and the walkers, to hopefully go on by.

Daryl enclosed his arms around her and tucked her safe in his arms before lifting her up and headed towards the building. A part of him wished he kept the bastard alive and string him up on a tree to let the walkers eat him alive. Enough of that, Beth needed him.

"I'm here Beth. I'm here, I'm sorry… I'm sorry I wasn't there to prevent this," he whispered in her ears after he brushed past the group of shocked males. He hated himself for not being to prevent it. He swore he would protect her, how will he be able to keep her trust knowing he failed her this time?

"It's not your fault Daryl," she whispered in the softest voice, barely audible to his ears if her lips weren't by his ears.

"Beth, I'll protect you from now on," Daryl promised, this time, he'll be damned sure he will keep his promise to keep her safe. "Stay with me, honey, I'll protect you," he repeated to her like a mantra.

After a short silence, he felt her nodded. "I know, Daryl…. I know. I trust you."

/

**JR-** Wow, almost 4,000 words! Have to work in 5 hours but I had to finish this chapter before sleeping.

Let me know what you guys think!

(P.S- I like to write and read in the 3/4 to 1/2 page format on fanfiction, so the story may be more pleasing if you switch to that view if you haven't already! Thanks for reading!)


	6. Faith

**Take Me as I Am**  
Chapter 6_  
[Faith]_

After four long hours, the horde of walkers finally made their way past the small lot. The scent of the dead bastard's blood attracted more of the undead than Daryl expected. Initially, it had only been a handful of stragglers, but as the minutes passed, the handful of stragglers turned into a bloodied, decaying mass of the undead tearing through the property in waves.

It was strange. He had only seen such large hordes such as the one that just passed by only in the cities or when a loud explosion or sound attracted them. It unnerved him when the undead started to bump into the sides of the building and eventually the door.

It was almost like they were testing to see if any prey was in there.

Daryl had to leave Beth in a safe corner to help the others secure the doors as quietly as possible to prevent the walkers from barging into the building. Metal shelving and crates were carefully placed in front of the doors as a barricade while the younger man of the group climbed up onto a steel rack secured into the wall, observing the horde for possible signs of infiltrations.

At least now that the horde is gone, he can return to Beth. Still huddled in the corner where he left her, he made his way over to her slowly. "Beth?"

He saw her stir, and a part of him knew she wasn't in any sense 'okay' but he had expected to see her crying, sad… something. Instead, her blue eyes were devoid of emotion—as if the life had been sucked out of her.

"You okay?" It was a stupid question to ask. Of course, she was not okay—but Daryl wasn't much of a conversationalist when it came to times like these.

She nodded; the action made her tousled hair partially covered her face like a veil. He watched her pull his vest around her shoulders tighter as she tried to suppress a shudder.

He reached over to his black plastic bag where he had stashed an extra shirt. He dug within the bag for a few seconds before his fingers came in contact with the garment. Pulling it out of the bag, he grimaced at the stench emitting from it. Sure enough, he hadn't the chance to wash it since leaving the prison—but it'll do.

"It smells like sweat and shit, but I rather you stink than prance around with a torn shirt," he said to her in a low voice. He aired out the shirt by flapping it a few times and kneeled in front of Beth. "Well go on, what you waiting for?"

Instead of doing as he asked, Beth just stared at him with those lifeless eyes. He pitied her, he did. But they had to keep going, the longer they were with this group, the higher chance the incident will happen again. At this point, he had a feeling they were in danger since he just massacred the leader of the group's friend. He had to get Beth out of here. Now that the horde's gone, it was a good of a time as any to escape when he heard Joe suggesting to camp for a few more days here.

He rather risk a chance with a horde tearing his guts out than let another man touch her like that again. During the entire time securing the doors, he couldn't help but blame himself for not watching her carefully, especially when Randy made such raunchy remarks. He didn't feel sorry for killing that bastard, if he were to live… well Beth wouldn't be his only victim.

"Beth, come on… just put the damn shirt on," Daryl hissed, growing impatient and irritated at the thought of dead Randy hurting another female. When she didn't make a move, he swooped in and grabbed one of her arms and slipped it through the sleeve of the dirty shirt. Despite her flinching away from his contact, he made quick work of putting it on her.

When he was done, his hands rested on her shoulders. He had every mind to scold her for being a baby, but as a tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek, he bit his tongue.

Daryl sighed, a bit torn as to what to do. He hardly had the experience of comforting women… that was Merle's job. His brother had always been the smooth talker, and well he… he just followed Merle around.

As more tears began cascading from her eyes, something stirred within him. He made a promise to protect her, and in her vulnerable state, he shouldn't be an indifferent asshole to her. Awkwardly, he brushed the stray strands of hair shielding her face and tucked it behind her ears.

"Beth, look at me."

She shook her head and whispered through her tears, "No… I'm okay… I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me, girl. Just… look at me," Daryl cupped the back of her neck, base of her skull with his hand and tucked a finger under her chin with his other. He tilted her chin up until her face was parallel to his. It was quite apparent she intended to avoid looking at him at all costs.

He had to do something drastic.

He shifted his hands until they cupped each side of her face, pulling it down gently; he lowered her face and pressed his lips against her hairline above her forehead.

Her head snapped up so quickly, it collided with his chin, sending him toppling onto his side. He cradled his chin with his hands and whined, "Damn it Beth! Fucking A, that hurts! The one time I try something different. God damn!"

In an instant, Beth was kneeling by him, pressing her cold hands against his, in attempts to make it better. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry Daryl. I- I didn't mean it!" Her voice was apologetic, her eyes glistened with worry for him despite the fact she also sustained some sort of injury to her head from the collision.

"You better be damn sure you didn't mean it! Shit, that hurts. Think you broke my chin," he hissed, pulling his hands back to his view to check for blood, a look of mock anger in his face.

"Well… well you shouldn't have done that! It surprised me!" Her worry gaze was soon replaced an irritated one. "What were you doing… catching me off guard like that! You should've let me known first or something."

Daryl's protests dwindled to nothing as he laid on the cold floor, watching her rant to herself. He was glad she still had fire within her, the look she gave him when he started to blame her for hurting him assured him that she was not all broken. She had him worried there, when she was so unresponsive and distant from him. He never wanted that from her… he wanted to be the one she trusted with life. What happened last night should've never happened, and he's sure as hell will not let something like that happen to her again. He forbids it.

Slowly, he adjusted himself into a kneeling position in front of Beth, who was still obliviously ranting to herself as she fidgeted with her hands. Reaching out in front of him, he encircled his arms around her shoulders and pulled her body flush to his, tucking her head under his chin.

"I'm sorry Beth. I know there ain't anything I can say or do to make this shitty situation better for you. But I'm here… don't hide from me, Beth. Don't act strong when you feel like you're all torn up inside. Let it out… I'm right here. I ain't going anywhere," he whispered to her, his arms tightening around her small frame.

He felt her body shake, and seconds later, soft sobs racked through her body. Her arms snaked up behind his back and clenched onto his shirt, pressing their bodies closer together. Through her sobs, he made out a few fragments of sentences. Most of them sounded as if she blamed herself, and that she deserved it for letting him die. This wasn't the first time she said that. He heard her blame herself when she had her nightmare right after the group rescued her. He hadn't gotten the chance to ask her about her captor. He supposed the time now is better than any.

"Let who die?" He whispered, awkwardly stroking her back. The jerking motion must've worked in calming her down—her sobs diminished to sniffles and the occasional whimper.

"The priest… the guy who captured me… funeral home…" she sighed against his chest, sending a wave of moist heat through his vest.

He suppressed the urge to shiver and buried the beginnings of inappropriate thoughts into a deep dark corner of his mind. Clearing his throat, he continued his questions. "How did he die?"

"I killed him…"

Daryl pulled back, albeit shocked as he studied her face. "You killed him?" he was far beyond skeptical. He doubted she would purposely kill anyone—it wasn't within her nature to. "How?" he asked, keeping his face devoid of emotion.

"He fell… and… I left him there… in the tunnel," she whispered dejectedly, large tears falling down from her eyes anew. "He said," she hiccupped "… that I would go to Hell for leaving him behind… that I killed him…" Her shoulders visibly sagged and Daryl couldn't decide to whether or not laugh or scold her for her stupidity.

He decided neither, instead he pulled her back into his arms and sighed, relieved. "You know, that don't make you a killer. Might as well say I killed him too."

"What? How… does?"

"'Cus it ain't your fault, honey," he chuckled, albeit dumbfounded at her logic. "I could've gone back there faster when I heard 'em screaming. I could've done and killed the dozens of walkers that were eatin' on him. But I didn't. 'Cus why? Too late. It ain't your fault that he died." He supposed his reasoning was working on her. He felt her shift until she laid her head in the crook of where his shoulder met his neck.

"I 'supose so… But I feel so guilty… That dream… he appeared and said it was my fault…"

Daryl shrugged at her comment, then proceeded to shift their position until he sat on the cold ground and pulled Beth into his lap. For the longest moment, he didn't care what the others were doing. He remained still, holding her. She was like a fallen angel, dejected and thinking the cause of that man's death was her fault.

After a long silence, he heard Beth speak again. "Daryl? Do… do you believe in God?"

"For real?" He debated if he wanted to answer truthfully or not. He felt her shift until she sat upright on his lap, looking into his eyes.

She nodded, watching him with her doe-like eyes, "Yes, answer truthfully."

Daryl sighed, ran a hand through his hair before propping his arms behind him to stabilize him and Beth's weight. "Well, for starters… I don't believe in God." He watched disappointment grow in her eyes. "But," he continued "… when you wouldn't wake up from your hellish nightmare… no matter what the fuck I tried to do… I… I prayed."

"… I prayed 'cus you're all that I got now. I don't know if the others are still alive. And fuck, if they're all dead… you're the closest thing to a family I got. I felt myself change when I thought I lost ya. Ain't got nothin' to protect. Ain't got nothin' to look out for but my own sorry ass. I don't wanna be like what I was before all this shit hit the fan. I don't want to lose you, and I ain't gonna," he whispered and tore his gaze away from her face. He felt his face flush with heat. It sounded almost like a confession… damn it.

He dared himself a peak at her face from the corner of his eyes. He immediately looked away again, and cleared his throat. From what he saw, her face flushed as red as his, she probably took it as a confession too. Well… fuck.

"So… you do believe in God… now?" She too, cleared her throat and avoided his gaze.

"… Yeah… Guess so."

"That makes sense. You're like my guardian angel… always saving me."

Daryl chuckled and shook his head, "If anyone's an angel here, it would be you."

"Angels don't let other people die," she whispered, her mood started to decline again.

He shifted the weight onto one of his arms, freeing his other hand to cup the side of her face, forcing her to look at him. "What you just said proved that you're more the angel than me. You can't help but blame yourself because you see the good in other people that I can't see. That man kidnapped you. He ain't a good man, and yet you still blame yourself for something outta your control. Some people may call it karma but damn, Beth. It ain't your fault. If you ain't gonna believe yourself, at least believe in me."

For seconds, she stared at him with her head tilted to the side. He knew nothing about what she was thinking; partially he believed she might've gone crazy. Then, she flashed him a watery smile, her eyes shining with… something he couldn't put a name to. "I believe you Daryl, and I trust you."

Rarely did he ever want to smile… but around her, around this fallen angel, he couldn't help but feel his soul lightened up enough to smile in return. "Well 'bout damn time," he grinned.

They remained sitting on the floor for a few more uninterrupted minutes before the gravity of their situation were made known to them. The men of the group crept in from behind them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike…

/

**JR-** Sorry it took so long to update folks! I just finished my finals! Doing good so far! This was more of a filler chapter to ease Beth and Daryl's anxiety. Can't say much for the next chapter though.

Oh, and there's a reason why she says she trusts him repeatedly! Stay tuned for the future chapters to find out!

Thanks for reading, please review!


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